Friday, May 1, 2015


For what you profess/ all that it’s worth
For what you claim as yours/ that I have an am
drowning in the duplicity
the passive-aggressive manner for which you have played
victim and oppressor
from the perch that you peck them away
one revolting, lipstick-covered-cigarette at a time
the stench of the years that you have lost
cannot merely be smudged away
in the way that abuse never subsides
pungent and permeating into everything that once held sway    
looking down your nose
at the migrant workers that have worked under your pitiless gaze
micromanaged as if compensation
for every wasted year
unable to understand that the years were wasted
in an assertion of control

reminiscence like a black banner that rolls in the wind ceaselessly
a monument of contempt without compassion
you loose control of your body
your nervous system fails you
the disease wracks you

I imagine what it must feel like
putting makeup on that skull of a face
Knowing all the glory that has faded,
Where the dreams that have subsided in the tides of time 

explain to me the struggles of having servants that; “don’t work hard enough”
tell me of the millions you have lost, One. More. Time.
Speak at me of your misplaced perceptions
-the struggle of the privileged
-the pain of the served
your sovereignty diminishes in these twilight years
where all that you have is the lasting memory
of what may never have been truly yours

through slatted rays,
I watch as the wolves of yourself
close in upon their quarry

ready to tear into the nerves of your delusion.

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